


Birthday Wishes

by PrettiestStar17



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 2020 Fremione Costume Party, Birthday, Breakfast Club, F/M, Fluff, Fremione - Freeform, Happy Ending, I have but one fuck to give, John Hughes, Sixteen candles - Freeform, pretty in pink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:20:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26490283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettiestStar17/pseuds/PrettiestStar17
Summary: Hermione Granger is celebrating her 26th birthday by throwing a John Hughes themed party. Fred shows up dressed like Jake Ryan and seems to enjoy making Hermione blush at every opportunity with his shameless flirting.Written for the 2020 Fremione Fanatics' Costume Party fest, using the prompt of John Hughes movies.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Fred Weasley, Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas
Comments: 7
Kudos: 95
Collections: 2020 Fremione Costume Party





	Birthday Wishes

Hermione Granger did one final sweep of her flat, making sure she had gathered the last of the party supplies. Her kitchen was a bit of a disaster after spending the afternoon cooking and baking various finger foods and desserts. She had an urge to do the washing up but quickly squashed the thought. It was her birthday and the cleaning could wait until later that evening. Plus, she was already in her costume and she didn’t want to take the chance of ruining her dress.

Noting that the sign instructing her guests to go to the rooftop was in front of the floo, Hermione swung her bag over her arm, left the flat, and followed the rest of her handmade signs to the party destination. 

The rooftop of her building had been transformed into an American prom scene from the 1980s. Pastel streamers flapped in the breeze while strings of white Christmas lights lit up a dance floor. Her stereo was loaded with all the classic 80s songs and a karaoke machine was ready for anyone that wanted to sing along. Round tables had been draped with pink linens, with a white vase of pink roses in the center of each one. To the side, pearl white balloons were strung together to make an arch and set in front of a baby blue backdrop to use for pictures. 

Hermione smiled as she sprinkled confetti on the tables. She could envision any of the Brat Pack stepping through the door and fitting right in with the scene she had created. A quick check of the time told her that it wouldn’t be long until her own group of misfits started arriving, hopefully, dressed in all their John Hughes glory. 

As she exhausted her supply of confetti on the final table, the door clanged and Ginny Weasley stepped through with Harry Potter right behind her. 

“Sammy Baker Davis Junior!” Harry called, grinning broadly at Hermione.

“Bueller,” Hermione deadpanned, though she couldn’t keep her mouth from creeping into a smile.

Still grinning, Harry spun around to show off his ensemble- a chaotic print vest over a Save Ferris t-shirt, paired with blue suit trousers and the shiniest white Oxford shoes Hermione had ever seen.

Throwing a hand over her eyes, Hermione asked, “How many coats of polish did you put on those shoes?”

“You don’t want to know,” Ginny said, rolling her eyes and holding up a covered tray. “I brought sushi.”

“Excellent.” As Ginny took her tray to the refreshment table, Hermione admired her pink blouse and long belted brown skirt. “You didn’t want to be the Sloane to his Ferris?”

“I had this outfit picked out long before he made up his mind,” Ginny explained. “I tried to talk him into coming as my Bender, but he refused.”

“Nevertheless, you both look lovely.”

“As do you,” Ginny complimented, reaching up and touching the wreath of carnations and baby’s breath in Hermione’s newly copper tinted hair. “You look like you could be my sister. Is the color permanent?”

“No, just one of those twenty-four-hour color charms from the twins’ shop. George did a pretty good job picking the right shade.”

“And the dress?”

“Old bridesmaid dress of my mum’s,” Hermione answered, smoothing her hands over the lavender skirt of her dress. “I did some transfiguring to poof up the sleeves and hem but it didn’t need much more to fit the look.”

“It’s perfect. And, rest assured, no one has forgotten your birthday.” Ginny reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out a wrapped parcel. “Gift table?”

“I, um, didn’t think about a gift table,” Hermione admitted with a sheepish smile.

“Of course you didn’t,” Ginny said with an exaggerated sigh. She pulled out her wand and duplicated one of the round tables, then floated it over to just beside the door. “It’s your birthday. You’re going to get gifts. Deal with it.” Then Ginny kissed her cheek and skipped over to place her gift on the new table.

More guests started to roll in. There were a few of her work colleagues that had no idea who John Hughes was or what a film even was so they arrived sans costumes. But, after numerous Friday night movie gatherings, her closest friends spared no expense. Neville and Ron showed up as the Breakfast Club’s bad boy, John Bender, and wrestler, Andrew Clark. This amused Ginny and she dragged them to the picture area and made Harry take picture after picture.

Hermione almost didn’t recognize Luna Lovegood when she slipped in. Along with the black leather vest and fingerless gloves, Luna had had all her long blond curls cut off and styled into a pixie cut to look like Watts from Some Kind of Wonderful. When asked about the big change, Luna just shrugged and said, “I can make it grow back if I want to.”

There was a bit of a scene when the first of the Weasley twins arrived. George had unknowingly ‘stole’ Ginny’s look and she was not happy about having to share the role of Claire.

“Go change, George,” Ginny demanded, stomping a leather-clad boot. 

“No way. I worked hard on this look,” George replied, gently patting his perfectly bobbed hair. “Plus, I’ve been working all week on the lipstick trick for the talent show.”

“There’s no talent show,” Hermione said, trying hard not to laugh at George’s pale, hairy knees poking out between his skirt and thigh-high boots. 

“Well, I’m showing off this talent at some point tonight,” he declared. 

“You don’t even have the right parts to do the lipstick trick,” Ginny scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

George arched his brows and a devious grin spread over his face. It was the wrong time to take a sip of punch because George tapped his wand to his chest, causing a pair of breasts to slowly grow under his pink blouse and punch to spray out Hermione’s nose. 

Hunched over and trying not to wheeze red punch all over her dress, Hermione excused herself, leaving the siblings to argue about George’s fake boobs, and hurried off for a napkin. As she mopped off her face, a voice beside her said, “I had no involvement in that invention.”

Hermione didn’t even have to look up for her heart to skip a beat. The timber alone in Fred Weasley’s voice was enough to make Hermione melt. Composing herself, Hermione turned around. It took all her willpower not to let out a pitiful whimper and swoon for the man standing in front of her. He was clad in a patterned, green sweater vest over a long-sleeved, hunter green shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Hermione let her gaze drift south and was greeted with the sight of denim trousers that fit Fred like a glove. Was it fate or happy coincidence that he would choose to come dressed like Jake Ryan?

Hermione released the lip she didn’t realize she had been biting and cleared her throat. “I admire the man’s dedication to his part.”

“George doesn’t do anything half-arsed,” Fred chuckled. He reached out and took the napkin from her hand and then dabbed it along her chin. “You missed a spot.”

“Thanks,” she whispered, running her hand over the spot he had just cleaned. “You cut your hair.”

“Oh, yeah. Can’t play the part of the school sweetheart looking like a hippie, can I?” Fred grinned and ran a hand through his shortened locks. “I like yours, by the way. Temporary?”

Hermione nodded and pointed to where George and Ginny were still arguing. “From your shop. George helped pick out the color.”

“I’m glad it’s not permanent. Not that it doesn’t look nice but I’ve always been partial to brunettes.” Then he winked and walked over to greet Harry, leaving Hermione standing at the refreshment table, completely gobsmacked. 

Pushing her crush to the back of her mind, Hermione went about mingling and greeting guests, while adding their themed contributions to the refreshment table. Along with the traditional party finger foods and baked goods, her friends had brought along themed treats like pixie sticks, cans of Coca-Cola, and quiche. 

It didn’t take long for George to realize the brilliance of mixing Firewhisky and Coke and most of the guests had a good buzz going within the hour. Good-natured fights over the karaoke machine broke out and Hermione lost count of how many times Don’t You Forget About Me was sung/screamed into the cool night air. Harry even treated them to a surprisingly good rendition of Danke Shoen. 

Hermione’s co-workers started to trickle out shortly after the rowdy karaoke started. As she was saying goodbye to an officemate, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan finally arrived. Dean was dressed as Duckie, from Pretty in Pink, with a porkpie hat, bolo tie, and small round sunglasses. Seamus was sporting a black tux with a white jacket, looking like Blane McDonough heading to prom.

“You guys look great!” Hermione greeted, hugging the guys. “Unfortunately no one dressed up like Andie to make a complete trio.”

“Perfect,” Seamus replied, grinning and wrapping an arm around Dean’s waist. “In our version of the film, Blane and Duckie ditch her and go to prom together.” Then he leaned up and noisily kissed Dean’s cheek. 

“Well then, I know the perfect song to play for your first dance.”

“Oh, we brought a Muggle treat that was supposedly very popular in the eighties,” Dean said and produced a stash of Pop Rocks packets from his jacket. 

“Nice. I have a feeling Fred and George will be delighted with those,” Hermione laughed. 

She made her way to where Luna was finishing up a rendition of Time After Time and scrolled through her iPod playlist. As Cyndi Lauper faded away, Hermione hit play and started If You Leave, by Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark. Dean’s face lit up and he dragged Seamus to the dance floor, prompting the remaining guests to follow suit. 

As Hermione edged her way through the dancing couples, Neville’s boot came down on the hem of her dress and sent her flying forward into an unsuspecting, but solid, body. She heard a grunted, “Oof!” as arms wrapped around her, stopping her from hitting the ground.

Hermione glanced up and her face instantly flooded with heat as Fred smiled down at her. “Glad I caught you,” he chuckled, lifting her to her feet. 

“Yeah, lucky catch,” she breathed, fixing her crown of flowers. 

“Very lucky.” Fred placed a hand on her waist and gave a nod towards the dance floor. “Could I trouble the birthday girl for a dance?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, sure,” Hermione stammered, allowing Fred to lead her to the edge of the other couples. She awkwardly wrapped her arms around his neck as he placed both his hands on her waist and they started to sway together. 

Hermione was now twenty-six. She had fought and won a war. She’d spent the better part of a decade building up her confidence and perfecting her poise. How was it possible that a simple interaction with Fred Weasley threw all of that out the window and reduced Hermione to a shy, inexperienced teenager? The man’s charm was a threat to national security.

“You can relax, Granger,” Fred said softly, pulling her slightly closer. “It’s just a dance.” Hermione let out a slow exhale and gave her body a mental shake, willing it to loosen up. It must have worked better than she thought because Fred let out a content hum and spun them around. “So, how is it that you don’t have a date for your own party?”

Hermione let out a morose laugh. “My dating life is about as lively as a flobberworm.”

“Lies.”

“You just pointed out I am dateless at my own birthday party. Where are the lies?”

“I guess I find it hard to believe that guys aren’t lining up for even just one night out with you.”

Hermione shook her head and averted her gaze down, feigning interest in the pattern of Fred’s sweater vest. “Complete opposite it would seem. It’s fine though. I’m young. There’s plenty of time for dating.”

Fred reached up and took one of her hands from his neck so he could twirl her around. “Careful, you’re closer to thirty than you are to twenty now,” he teased, pulling her back, flush against his chest.

“Ahh, and to think only a minute ago I was thinking about how charming you were,” Hermione said sarcastically, giving his arm a playful pinch.

“You think I’m charming?”

“Please,” Hermione scoffed. “You’re well aware that you could charm your way out of an acromantula’s lair.”

“Oh, _I know_ I’m charming.” Fred dipped her and she let out a gasp of surprise. “It’s nice to know that _you_ think I’m charming.”

“Oh...right,” Hermione squeaked. The wicked grin on Fred’s face confirmed her fear that her body was now the same color as her hair. The song started to fade and he pulled her back upright but didn’t let her go. “Thank you for the dance. Sorry. I, um, need the bathroom.”

“You don’t have to apologize for needing the loo,” Fred laughed, squeezing her hand before letting it go. 

“Right, sorry.” Hermione let out an embarrassed groan and covered her face with her hands.

“Stop apologizing and go pee, Granger,” Fred quietly chuckled, nudging her towards the door. 

Dead. She was going to go to the bathroom and die. The first person to actually perish due to embarrassment. The birthday and deathday on her tombstone were going to be identical, all because she fancied Fred _fucking_ Weasley! Hermione let out a pathetic whine and buried her face in her hands as she sat on the toilet.

After five minutes and still finding herself very much alive, Hermione pulled herself together and off the toilet. Regaining her composure and normal complexion, she made her way back to the rooftop. The music was still playing but all her friends were scattered around various tables as Dean tossed packets of Pop Rocks to them.

“You know, there’s an old wive’s tale that if you eat these and then drink pop, your stomach will explode,” Harry piped up, ripping the top off his packet of candy.

“That’s not true,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes and sitting down in the empty chair next to George.

“You didn’t give your panties to a nerd on your walk back, did you?” George asked with a wink.

“As if,” Hermione said, elbowing him in the side.

“Oi, pass me one of those Cokes, babe,” Seamus called.

“You do know there’s no _reparo_ for your innards, right?” Ginny laughed, leaning back in her seat and propping her feet up on Harry’s lap. 

“Hermione just said it’s not true!” Seamus protested, cracking open his can of pop and quickly sipping at the overflowing fizz. 

“Then what’s the reason for chasing your sweets with cola?” Ginny asked.

“Science,” Seamus said as he dumped the packet of candy onto his tongue and chugged his soda, Hermione floated the trash bin to his side. “Good call,” George whispered. Hermione just shook her head and looked on. Seamus dropped his empty can on the table and the rest waited in silent anticipation.

“Well? How do you feel?” Ron shouted out. 

Seamus’ face contorted in discomfort and he rested a hand on his stomach. Dean placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned in, his face painted with concern. Then, without warning, Seamus let out the loudest and longest belch Hermione had ever witnessed. Dean screamed and jumped back, staring at his boyfriend in wide-eyed horror as everyone else broke out in laughter. Seamus grinned and let out a content sigh.

“A very satisfying experience,” he declared with satisfaction. “Five stars!”

“For Merlin’s sake,” Hermione wheezed, trying to catch her breath. 

“George!”

Hermione startled at Fred’s surprise appearance at their table.

“Sorry, Hermione. Didn’t mean to scare ya.” He ran a soothing hand over hers before turning back to his brother. “These sweets are giving me ideas.”

Hermione summoned the tray of sushi and enjoyed several rolls while the twins talked about product ideas. She let her attention drift between the conversation of her tablemates and the chatter going around the rest of the group. Eventually, they all melded together and turned into an impromptu game of What Would You Do For a Million Galleons?.

Ron’s immediate answer was, “As little as possible.”

Ginny quickly shut him down. “You’ve seen the movie. That’s not how this works.”

“Well, I’m not doing anything that requires me to go starkers in public,” Ron said, folding his arms across his chest.

“Good. No one is paying a million galleons to see your freckled arse anyway,” Fred retorted, taking a swig of Butterbeer and dodging the empty pop can Ron chucked at his head.

“Ron, be serious,” Hermione said, leaning forward in her chair. “We’re talking about a million galleons. You’re telling me you wouldn’t suffer a few minutes of embarrassment to never have to work a day in your life again?”

Ron quirked his lips in thought. “If it was a warm day and Rita Skeeter was locked up, maybe…”

“You don’t get to set the terms. Yes or no. Would you streak through Diagon Alley for a million galleons?” Hermione asked. 

Ron didn’t answer right away. Hermione giggled at how seriously he was considering the hypothetical, never-going-to-happen scenario. 

“You could buy your own Quidditch team with that kind of coin, mate,” Harry said. 

“Fine, yes, I’d do that.” Ron swung his feet off the chair he’d had them stretched out across and pointed at Hermione. “What about you, Miss Modesty? Would you do it?”

Hermione felt her face heat up for the millionth time that night. She was about to answer when Ginny snorted and said, “Hermione would never do that.”

“Hey! You don’t get to speak for me, Ginevra,” Hermione cried.

“So? Would you?” George asked, knocking his shoulder against hers.

“Yes, I would. I could do a lot of good with a million galleons,” Hermione replied, sitting up straight and smiling at Ron and then sticking her tongue out at Ginny. 

“I hope our shop is on your route,” Fred said quietly, reaching over and snagging a sushi roll from the tray. 

Hermione’s first instinct was to clam up and try to sink into her chair but decided that if she couldn’t beat them, join them. She had flirted once or twice in her life. Surely she remembered how it went.

“Once I have my path mapped out, I’ll owl you a copy,” Hermione said, trying to stay cool and nonchalant as she grabbed his Butterbeer and took a sip. Fred said nothing but grinned as she handed the bottle back to him and winked.

When the million galleon challenges started getting into the absurd (“Harry, would you have fought the Dark Lord while wearing just a nappy?), Hermione started the process of cleaning up. As she swept napkins and stray food into the bin, Ginny appeared next to her with a collection of empty cans. 

“What’s up with you and my brother making googly eyes at each other all night?” Ginny asked, dumping the cans into the bag of recyclables.

“Which brother?” Hermione asked innocently, putting the lid on the container of onion dip.

“Don’t play dumb with me. You know exactly which brother I’m talking about and it’s not the one lighting his trainers on fire.”

Hermione turned around just in time to see Ron bring his hand down on the flaming sole of his shoes. Lacking the skill of a fictional character, he ended up singeing his hand as his trainer continued to burn and Neville had to cast an _aguamenti_ to extinguish the flame, while telling him, “Don’t try and steal my bit, Weasley. Go scream and break some glass.” 

“Is it just me or are they worse now than when they were at school?” Hermione asked, staring in disbelief for another moment before turning back to her task of cleaning up. 

“This is what we get when there’s no adult supervision.”

“We’re supposed to be the adults now!” Hermione laughed.

“Oh, are we showing off our talents now?” George called. He ran over to Ron and Neville. “My time to shine!” he declared, pulling a tube of lipstick from his skirt pocket. 

“We’re not done with our discussion,” Ginny whispered, pointing a finger at Hermione.

“There’s nothing to discuss,” Hermione insisted, watching as George tucked the lipstick into the cleavage of his fake breasts. “Fred is being his usual, flirty self, so I flirted back a bit. Figured it would be better than furiously blushing every time I’m around him.”

“Aww, you fancy him!”

“Shh!” Hermione hissed, clamping a hand over her friend’s mouth. “You don’t have to advertise the fact.”

Gently pulling Hermione’s hand away, Ginny smiled and asked, “Did you ever consider that maybe he’s flirting with you because he likes you?”

Hermione said nothing because she hadn’t given that notion a second thought. Fred Weasley could have any woman he wanted. What would make him look twice at her?

Those thoughts swam through her mind as she watched George bow his head and sweep it over his chest, from one side to the other. When he looked back up, his mouth was almost perfectly painted with ruby red lipstick. Most everyone started clapping and hollering their praises.

“Now smile!” Ginny called. George looked at her and gave her a smug grin. “No, a real smile. Show us your teeth!” George’s smile faded and he pursed his rouge lips as his eyes narrowed. Finally, he parted his lips and showed off his teeth that were coated in waxy, red chunks. “Knew it! Watch how it’s done, boys.”

Ginny summoned her own lipstick from her purse. As she tucked the tube into her cleavage and swished her head slowly back and forth, Hermione looked over at Harry and let out a quiet laugh. He had his gaze locked on his wife and actually licked his lips. It was sweet to see that, after all those years together, she could still transfix him with the simplest things. 

When Ginny lifted her head, her lips were colored with a shade of soft, shimmering pink and not a smudge over the line. She turned to her brother and beamed, showing off her perfectly white teeth. 

George’s mouth opened and shut a few times, with no sound coming out, before he finally stuttered, “Yeah, well...it’s not really fair, is it? I’ve only had mine for a week. You’ve had years of practice.”

“That’ll teach you to go up against a professional.” Ginny blew him a kiss and waved as she turned back to Hermione. “Now, about flirting with my brother--”

She never got to finish her sentence as Harry was suddenly at her side and furiously whispering, “How long have you had this talent and kept it hidden from me?”

Ginny gave him a quick peck on the lips and murmured, “I’ll give you a stripped-down demonstration when we get home.” Hermione groaned and looked up at the sky.

“Sorry, ‘Mione,” Harry said. His cheeks were bright pink and she wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment or excitement. She decided against asking and handed him a tray of leftovers.

“Can you take those down to the flat for me, please?”

“Of course.”

With Harry gone for a few minutes, Ginny asked, “So, you like Fred?”

“Of course I do.”

“No, I mean _really_ like him. Not in an ‘oh yeah, he’s a nice guy,’ way, but like him in the ‘if I had the chance I’d snog the pants off him’ way.”

“Whose pants are getting snogged off?” Ron asked, appearing beside them.

“Nunya’s,” Ginny said flatly.

“Who’s Nunya?”

“None ya business!” Ginny shoved a bag of crisps into his hands and gave him a shove. “Go find Harry and help him put stuff away.”

“Jeez, don’t get your knickers in a twist,” Ron muttered as he skulked away.

Before answering Ginny’s question, Hermione took a quick survey of where the rest of her guests were. Luckily they were all congregated around the balloon arch, striking multiple crude and funny poses as the Polaroid camera captured it all for posterity. 

Turning back to her friend, Hermione quickly said, “Yes, okay? I like him. A lot. In a snog his pants off kind of way.” Ginny wrinkled her nose in disgust and Hermione batted her shoulder. “You’re the one that put the image in my mind!”

“I’m pretty sure that image was there long before this evening.”

“Whatever,” Hermione sighed. “It’s just a little crush though. I’m pretty certain he does not want to snog my pants off.”

“Mmm,” Ginny hummed, nodding her head. “You could be right, but I’m pretty certain he’s been staring at you the whole time we’ve stood here talking.”

Hermione looked over her shoulder and locked eyes with Fred. He smiled and waved, motioning her to join them. Hermione returned the smile and nodded, holding up one finger.

“I don’t have a problem if you two start seeing each other. I think you’d make a cute couple.” Ginny gave her a tight hug and patted her back. “Happy birthday, Hermione.” She grinned, picked up the rest of the food, and left the rooftop. 

Hermione picked up the bags of garbage and recycling and made her way over to the impromptu photoshoot. All the photos had been laid out to develop on a nearby empty table. She chuckled as she scanned the images of her friends giving each other bunny ears and flipping off the camera. There was one that must have been taken with the camera on the timer because all of them were huddled under the arch, laughing and holding onto one another as they tried to keep everyone in the frame. She sneakily snatched the photo and tucked it into her bag of supplies. 

“I saw that,” a voice whispered in her ear, making her jump. Whirling around, she almost collided with Fred. “I didn’t peg you for a sneak thief.”

“It’s not thievery if it’s your birthday,” Hermione said, taking another photo she liked of Seamus biting Dean’s ear.

“I wasn’t aware of that rule.”

“Old, ancient law. Long forgotten by many,” Hermione said seriously, nodding her head. She couldn’t help but grin when Fred quirked his lips to the side and gave her a skeptical look.

Finally, he gave in and said, “Who am I to argue about obeying the rules. Can I talk you into taking a picture with me?”

“Sure, if there’s any film left.”

Hermione followed him over to the arch of balloons and Fred called George over to take the picture. Positioning himself on Hermione’s left side, Fred wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. 

“Alright, you crazy kids, smile!” George called and two seconds later the flash went off.

“Take another one, Georgie, so she doesn’t have to steal my picture,” Fred instructed.

“Hey!” Hermione cried, looking up at Fred just as the second flash snapped. 

“Beautiful,” George said, passing the pictures to Fred. “Memories that will last a lifetime.”

“Thank you, Ansel Adams,” Hermione laughed, trying to peer over Fred’s arm to watch the photos develop.

“I’m going to take that as a compliment. Are the trash and recycling ready to go out?” George asked.

“Yes, but don’t worry about it, I’ll take care of it.”

“Nonsense. The birthday girl doesn’t take out the trash. It’s the law.” He seized the bags before Hermione could even make a move towards them and hurried inside.

“I’m learning about so many new rules. I need to remember them for my next birthday,” Fred muttered, not looking up from the pictures. The images were finally clear. One showed both of them looking at the camera and smiling. The other had captured her mid-slight, about to tell him off. And that would, of course, be the picture he chose to keep. 

“No, we should take another one. I look horrible in that one,” Hermione insisted, grabbing at the photo.

“Impossible,” Fred said, holding it out of her reach. When she grabbed his arm and tried to pull it down, he flexed and lifted her off the floor, letting her dangle off his bicep. 

Hermione let go and huffed, “I don’t think that’s very fair.”

“All’s fair in love and war, darling,” he said, tucking the picture into his back pocket. “What else needs to go down?”

“Everything but the balloons, tables, and chairs. I’ll take care of them tomorrow,” Hermione said. She waved her wand and summoned all the table cloths, forgetting about the confetti she had sprinkled on them. Everyone froze for a moment and looked up as shimmering bits of paper rained down. 

“Happy birthday, Hermione!” Dean and Seamus shouted, reaching up to catch the confetti pieces like they were snowflakes. 

“Thank you,” she laughed, spinning in the shimmery shower and making her dress flare out. Whether or not Fred actually fancied her, it didn’t matter. Hermione was happy and content at that moment, surrounded by her friends.

Dean and Seamus disassembled the stereo and Fred folded the table clothes while Hermione used a _tergeo_ spell to clean up all the confetti. When only the balloons and tables were left, the four left the rooftop and trekked down to Hermione’s flat. Dean and Seamus set the stereo equipment in the corner of the living room and said their goodbyes. George was sprawled out on her couch, polishing off the last of the sushi, citing the excuse that, “It would have gone bad. Sushi doesn’t keep.” Ron, Harry, and Ginny had put away the rest of the food and washed up all her dishes.

“Thank you. You guys didn’t have to clean up all that,” Hermione said as she gave them all hugs.

“We wanted you to have a nice, relaxing end to your birthday,” Harry explained, kissing her cheek. 

“This has honestly been one of my best birthdays, ever. Thank you guys for making it so special,” Hermione gushed, blinking back the tears that were prickling her eyes. “I think I’m going to have to do it again next year.”

“Excellent!” George stuffed the last sushi roll in his mouth and jumped to his feet. “I have a whole year to stock up on lipstick and practice,” he said through puffed up cheeks.

Hermione cringed as George swallowed. “Ugh. I hope you’re not regretting all that sushi at three a.m.”

“You and me both,” Fred groaned, moving away from his brother. 

“Happy Birthday, love,” George said, pulling Hermione into a hug before saying good-bye and disappearing through the floo.

Hermione grabbed the sushi tray before Ginny could get to it. “I’m capable of washing this one thing. Don’t you have a tutorial to attend to at home,” she said with a wink, making Harry laugh and Ron moan.

“Don’t talk about my sister like that in front of me, please?” Ron gave her one last hug and happy birthday and then apparated away. 

Harry and Ginny followed suit a minute later, leaving Hermione alone in her flat. She looked around in disappointment. Fred had left without saying goodbye and she hadn’t even noticed. She had been right. Fred Weasley would never look at her in a romantic way. And that was perfectly fine! They were good friends and she would have to be happy with that. She _was_ happy with that. With a sigh, she took the tray to the sink and sprayed it down with hot water. 

As she was rinsing the bubbles from the sink, the sound of the stereo kicking on made her gasp. Grabbing the nearest, heavy utensil, she slowly made her way to the living room. As she entered, the opening chords of If You Were Here filled the living room. Fred stood by the coffee table where a small, round cake sat, adorned with numerous lit candles. When he saw Hermione he smiled and gave her a little wave. It was a moment straight out of the final scene of Sixteen Candles until Fred’s face fell in confusion.

“What are you doing with a ladle?” he asked

Hermione looked down and laughed at her weapon of choice. “I, uh, didn’t know anyone was still here and when I heard the stereo I got scared.”

“So you were going to fight off an intruder with your ladle?”

“Ahh, you haven’t witnessed my mean ladling skills.” She dropped the ladle onto the couch and moved towards Fred. “I thought you had left.”

“Only for a moment. I left to go get your cake.” He sat down on the floor and gestured for her to sit down next to him. “You haven’t truly celebrated your birthday until you’ve had some cake.”

“Another rule?” she joked, lowering herself to the floor and smoothing out her dress.

“Well, yeah, but everyone knows this one. Go on, make a wish and blow out the candles.”

Hermione looked over at Fred’s expectant face and the reflection of the candlelight dancing in his eyes. At that moment, her heart swelled with a feeling of hope. Taking a deep breath, she silently made her wish and leaned forward. All the flames were quickly gone except for one lone candle that rebelliously continued to burn. Fred blew it out with a quick puff and said, “That one doesn’t count. What was your wish?”

“I can’t tell you that. It won’t come true.”

“So many rules!” Fred stared at her for a quiet moment, then leaned in closer and asked, “If it comes true, will you tell me?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Happy Birthday, Hermione,” he whispered back before slowly closing the distance and pressing his lips against hers. 

Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and held tight as she kissed him back, briefly losing herself in the moment she had dreamed about so many times. 

As he pulled away and rested his forehead against hers, she said, “Fred?”

“Yeah?”

“My wish came true.”


End file.
